The Art of Manipulation
by Surreal13
Summary: Neal wakes up alone on a Saturday morning and decides to do something about it. Established P/E/N. Pure fluff. Rating for mildly suggestive language.


Neal yawned and stretched lazily in the patch of warm sunlight that streamed in through the Burkes' bedroom window. It was early in the morning, and he was the only one left in bed. Disappointing but not surprising, since both his lovers were morning people, and he well, was not. He wondered what annoyingly cheerful things they were doing. They were probably eating breakfast and smiling happily at each other. Maybe they were holding hands. What they should be doing was spending time with him, here in their bed, not doing...well, whatever chipper, irritating things they they were currently doing.

Of course he had to be married to two people who got up at insane hours of the morning on Saturday. By insane he meant of course, eight, because nothing less than an emergency would drag him out of bed before nine-thirty (ok, ten...thirty) on a Saturday. He would get up for an art gallery. Maybe. Or a con - not that he would share that with Peter, of course. But if he had the choice, Neal would stay in bed all morning. He enjoyed sleeping in, a small indulgence that Neal felt very much entitled to . After so many years in prison, he figured one day a week to stay in bed for as long as possible wasn't too much to ask.

And he did enjoy it. Except on mornings like this when he was up early (for him) and he was left alone. He sulked for a while, petulant at being abandoned at - he rolled his head to the side to look at the clock - eight-forty in the morning. It was Saturday!

Grumbling and cranky, Neal rolled out of bed and slid on a pair of his pajama bottoms. He was about to tug on a shirt when he paused and grinned to himself. If he wanted the lure the Burkes into taking a day off, he had to use the proper bait.

Neal hooked his thumbs in his waistband and shimmied so that the pants hung low on his hips. He checked the mirror and artfully mussed his hair before gamely trotting downstairs to surprise Peter and El at the breakfast table.

Peter was about to take a bite of cereal when Neal sauntered into the dining room. The agent paused with his spoon half-way to his mouth, his eyebrow raised inquiringly at Neal.

"...and since we've switched to a brunch I should be home by...Oh Neal!" Elizabeth greeted him with an enthusiastic smile and an appreciative gaze. "What are you doing up so early?"

"Do you think he's sick?" Peter asked Elizabeth. He had a straight face but his eyes were sparkling with mischief. Elizabeth played along, schooling her features into an expression of concern and deep thought.

"He might be," El said. "And he's smiling. That's odd for this time of day."

"Maybe the clock's broken and he thinks it's later than it is," Peter suggested. Elizabeth giggled and handed Neal a bowl.

Neal sniffed at them indignantly and plopped down into a chair. Fine. If they wanted to tease him about this, then fine. He would just go back to bed. After he ate some cereal.

"Oh, sweetie. I'm so proud of you for making it downstairs before ten," Elizabeth said. She turned to her first husband and winked at him. Peter grinned back, but quickly tried to hide it behind his mug of coffee. Neal poured a bowl of cereal, added a little milk, and started eating. The looks on his spouses' faces told him that they were up to no good now. When they teamed up on him, all bets were off. He might as well eat before they dragged him into their morning activities.

"You know, Peter, we should probably reward him for getting up so early." Elizabeth still sounded amused, but there was that gleam in her eyes that made his heart pound, and Neal sat up straighter. Did that mean...?

"You think so?" Peter asked. He finished his cereal and pretended to consider. "Well, this is a special circumstance. Nearly miraculous, I'd say."

Neal threw a piece of cereal at him. It bounced off Peter's shoulder and onto the floor, where Satchmo snatched it up with glee. "We do have some stuff that needs to get done. Work first, then we can play."

Damnit. They'd just conned him, and now he didn't have an excuse to get back in bed. Peter saluted him with his mug and stood to take his bowl into the kitchen. Elizabeth got up as well, but instead of leaving she slid over to Neal and leaned down towards him. Her soft lips just barely brushed his ear as she traced her hands down the chiseled muscles on his chest.

"Help us do our chores," El whispered, "And we can spend all night and tomorrow in bed."

So he did, and then they did, and it went so well that Neal found his motivation to get up early on Saturdays from then on.

Most of the time.

**~fin**


End file.
